


One Out Of Three Of The Macdonald Triad

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Arson mention, Hand Job, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, M/M, Pants wetting, Podfic Welcome, animal cruelty mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: “The Macdonald triad. Did you ever exhibit any of those symptoms?”“Is that really a thing you ask people in the workplace?”“It’s nearly midnight. Does it even count as the workplace, when there’s nobody around?”“It’s still the workplace. It’s just empty.”“So, have you ever done any of the Macdonald triad things?”





	One Out Of Three Of The Macdonald Triad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waitforhightide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitforhightide/gifts).



> Blame Crash.

“Did you ever do any of the Macdonald triad things?” Shane leaned back in his desk chair, which creaked ominously, and he pushed his glasses up, rubbing his eyes. He’d been squinting at the screen for too long. 

“Hm?” Ryan looked up, one headphone off, one headphone on.

“The Macdonald triad,” Shane repeated. “Did you ever exhibit any of those symptoms?” 

“Is that really a thing you ask people in the workplace?” Ryan made a vague hand gesture around himself.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Shane countered. “Does it even count as the workplace, when there’s nobody around?” 

“It’s still the workplace,” said Ryan. “It’s just empty.” 

“So,” Shane repeated, “have you ever done any of the Macdonald triad things?” 

“I still maintain that that’s a weird thing to talk about,” Ryan said. Both of his headphones were off, though, and around his neck. 

“I’ve done a few of ‘em,” Shane said casually. He wasn’t even really _thinking_ about what they were talking about - he’d been editing audio, and if he didn’t stop soon he was going to pull his own ears off. 

“There’s only three of them,” said Ryan. “It’s kinda hard to do “a few” of them, when there’s three.” 

“Okay, so I’ve done one of ‘em,” said Shane. He was poking Ryan to poke, not out of hope of getting anything actually _out_ of it. “I had a brief… obsession with fire. When I was a kid.”

“What kind of an obsession are we talking about, here?” Ryan looked interested in spite of himself. “Like, did you try to feed the family pets to it?”

“That’d be more like animal harm, I’d think,” said Shane. “Not fire starting. And no. I almost burnt down my dad’s shed, it scared the shit out of me for years.”

“That doesn’t count as an obsession with fire,” said Ryan. “I think every kid has a ‘playing with matches’ phase.” 

“Yeah, fair,” said Shane. “I never hurt animals, though. That wasn’t a thing I was ever okay with.”

Ryan nodded.

“I did wet the bed a few tImes,” Shane added, looking up at the ceiling. “But that was when I was past the window. If there’s a window?” 

And Ryan… Ryan was blushing. That was unexpected. “I, uh, I don’t think there’s a window,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, I was in my late teens,” said Shane. “I feel like a lot of the Francis Dolarhydes of the world -”

“Francis Dolarhyde was from _Red Dragon_ ,” Ryan interrupted.

“But he wet the bed,” said Shane.

“But he was a fictional character,” Ryan repeated. 

“Well, anyway,” Shane said, raising his voice a little bit, “I feel like the other serial killers, real and imaginary, were probably peeing the bed when they were a little younger than that. And also, like, consistently. Not peeing the bed at age four, then peeing the bed again at age sixteen.”

“It has to be done at least two nights a week, for three months,” said Ryan. “And, uh… I never hurt animals or started fires.”

“Did you wet the bed?” Shane was ribbing, now, and Ryan was flushing. 

“I… um. Uh. I.”

“You?” Shane raised an eyebrow.

“Be right back,” Ryan said, and then he was rushing off to the bathroom. 

“Maybe all of that talk of peeing made _him_ have to pee,” Shane said to the empty room. 

* * *

Ryan came back to his desk, looking sheepish. He was clearly trying to _not_ look sheepish, but at the same time it was… something. 

“You okay, bud?” Shane raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be missing something. He tried not to think about how pink Ryan’s cheeks were, or the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. 

“I'm fine,” Ryan said shortly. “I should head home, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Shane. “I'm tired. My head hurts.”

“You need to turn down your brightness,” said Ryan, as Shane shut down his computer. 

“Probably,” Shane agreed. He picked up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and he stretched. His back hurt. 

“I did,” Ryan said, as the two of them walked through the empty office. Their footsteps echoed, as if they were walking through a much larger space. 

“You turned down the brightness of your computer?” Shane tried to keep their conversation straight. He was very tired. 

“Wet the bed,” said Ryan. “Not, uh… not a lot. Or often. But I did, a few times.” He paused. “But no fires or animal cruelty.” He pressed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened with a “ding.” 

“I dunno, said Shane. “Those sweaters your parents put their wiener dogs in qualify as animal cruelty, I think.” They both walked into the elevator. Shane was acutely aware of the empty space between them - it was almost a living thing, warm and breathing. 

Ryan made a dismissive hand gesture, but he was still blushing. “But I… I wet the bed. Among other things.” He looked very tired - practically giddy with it. 

“Among other things,” Shane echoed. “You did other things to your bed, or you wet other things?” The elevator doors opened again, and they both made their way out of it. 

“Never mind,” Ryan said quickly, and then he was walking quickly - almost purposefully - towards the door. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, big guy.”

“Night,” Shane said. He was still confused.

* * *

Shane couldn’t get the conversation out of his head. Maybe it was the squirrely look on Ryan’s face - he was used to awkward looks, nervous looks, weird looks - not so much the squirrely looks. Maybe it was the way that Ryan kept shooting him… looks. Looks that Shane didn’t entirely understand. 

Some of it was obvious… wanting. The two of them had been dancing around the issue for _months_ at this point, and if someone didn’t do something Shane thought he might actually scream. But that was the background radiation of his life at this point - the world was burning down around his ears, the political landscape was… itself, and him and Ryan were making goo-goo eyes and worrying about who would make the first move. 

It all came to a head, the day with the leaky sink.

* * *

Sometimes, Shane felt like a giraffe sent to live amongst ponies. Nothing was scaled to _him_ \- he was always just a little too big. Umbrella spokes hit him in the chest, movie theater seats left his knees around his ears, chopping food at a kitchen counter made his back ache.

Every counter was too damn low, including the ones at the Buzzfeed bathrooms, and he didn’t realize that one of the sinks was leaking until he noticed the wetness at his crotch. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Shane glared down at the big wet spot, right across the front of his pants. “Great.”

He made his way back to his desk, and hopefully nobody noticed. Nobody was noticing, right?

“Oh my god, Shane, did you piss your pants?” So Curly noticed. Great.

“You caught me, Curly,” Shane said, his voice deadpan as he sat down heavily in his chair, the wet fabric of his pants chafing his thighs. “I’m a secret pants pisser.”

Ryan, who had been sitting next to Shane, choked. It was a full on choke, too - Shane leaned over hurriedly, slapping Ryan on the back, and Ryan coughed. “I’m fine,” Ryan wheezed. “Absolutely fine.”

Curly was giving Ryan an appraising look. Then he gave one back to Shane. “You really pissed yourself, at work?”

“Totally,” Shane said. “I couldn’t resist the allure of indulging in my fetish at work, where all of my coworkers could gawk at me.”

Another wheeze, and Ryan was chugging his coffee. His ears were very red. 

“You’re enough of a weirdo that I could see that being true,” said Curly. “Is the sink still leaking?”

“Got it in one,” said Shane. “Although now I have to wonder why you were looking in the first place.”

Curly waggled his eyebrows like someone out of a silent movie, and made his way back to his desk. 

“So you didn’t pee your pants?” Ryan croaked. He probably shouldn’t have chugged that coffee.

“Nope,” said Shane. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

“Has it,” Ryan said, in that _so casual it’s fake_ tone of voice Shane had heard him use before. It wasn’t even a question. 

“Yep,” said Shane, then, on a hunch; “come out for drinks with me tonight, I’ll tell you about it.”

Ryan wheezed and he was flushing all the way down the collar of his shirt - did the blush go to his chest? That was an interesting thing to consider. It wasn’t the first time Shane had thought about Ryan in that context - how could he _not_ , when the man went around looking like _that_? He’d never seen Ryan blush that hard, though. It was certainly catching his interest, though. Very much catching his interest. 

The way Ryan was looking at him was also catching his interest - little sideways glances, furtive and anxious. Then he sighed, covering his face with both hands and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about, big guy,” Ryan said, in a resigned tone of voice. 

“I feel like you’re implying certain things about me,” said Shane, keeping his voice light, teasing. 

“Maybe I am,” said Ryan. “Or implying something about myself. I could be implying something about myself.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Shane said, and he leaned over, patting Ryan on the shoulder, then squeezing the shoulder.

Ryan shivered, and he licked his lips. “We should get back to work,” he said, and his voice was thick.

“Right,” Shane agreed, and he gave Ryan another squeeze, then let go. He got himself situated back at his computer, and he began to type again, his headphones in. 

* * *

“You still want to get drinks?” Ryan was leaning over, his hand on Shane’s shoulder. He had pushed Shane’s headphones to the side - a crime that Shane normally wouldn’t tolerate - and his breath was ticklish in Shane’s ear. 

“Sure,” said Shane, as goosebumps raced up and down his spine, chasing each other like the Coyote and the Roadrunner. 

“Anywhere in particular you wanna go?” Ryan’s hand had moved to the back of Shane’s neck, and was squeezing it gently. He could probably feel all of the little hairs standing on end. 

“There’s a bar near me,” said Shane. “We can drive over, park my car in my lot, then walk over.”

“Good thing you have a local place, huh?” Ryan was grinning, just a bit.

“Oh yeah,” Shane agreed. “But don’t forget to go to the bathroom, before we go.”

And Ryan flushed so hard and so quickly that Shane was faintly worried he’d pass out. He kept his hand on Shane’s neck, though. 

* * *

At the bar, they sat at a high table, their knees practically touching. 

It was weird, to be at a bar with just the two of them - no other coworkers being raucous and friendly, none of the usual “Buzzfeed Speak” going on around them, just the two of them, knee to knee, leaning over their beers. Ryan had a glass of water as well, and was sipping from it consistently. The table was small enough that their knees were pressed together, and Shane was aware of every inch were they were touching. 

“So,” Ryan said, and he was running his fingers through a little patch of spilled beer, “the Macdonald triad.”

“I still wonder why bedwetting got grouped in with zoosadism and pyromania,” said Shane. He drank his beer, and he was _aware_ of Ryan’s eyes on his lips, darting to his throat as he swallowed. 

“I think you just wanted a chance to use the term “zoosadism,” y’big show-off,” said Ryan, nudging Shane with one foot.

“I mean,” Shane said, “it isn’t exactly a word that enters my everyday parlance.” 

“You haven’t even drunk much, how are you already getting all fancy and obnoxious?” Ryan nudged his knee against Shane’s own. 

“I prefer to think of it as getting interesting,” Shane countered. He kept his knee right up against Ryan’s. He was starting to get hard in his chinos, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

“You’re interesting even when you haven’t been drinking,” said Ryan.

“I’m beginning to think you might be more interested when I’ve drunk more,” Shane said, and he made a big show of grabbing Ryan’s glass of water and drinking from it. 

Ryan was blushing in the dimness of the bar. “I dunno what you’re talking about,” Ryan mumbled. 

“I’m thinking you might have some… unconventional interests,” Shane said. He was being reckless now - downright _giddy_ with it. “Not like Hannibal Lecter.” He tried to think of someone else who might share Ryan’s interest, and only landed on the obnoxious jerk in the White House. 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not a cannibal?” 

“Ryan, I’ve seen you turn green about eating fish with a head,” said Shane, not unkindly.

Ryan snorted, and he took a big slug of his water, then shrugged. “I can’t really argue with that,” he agreed. 

“So….” Shane leaned in closer, speaking quieter, so that Ryan had to lean in as well, “were you a bedwetter?”

“I… I, uh… I might’ve developed a bit of an interest, when I was older,” said Ryan. He cleared his throat. “I… you know, I almost wet my pants when I was in the throes of puberty. Long bathroom line at a basketball game. Only some part of me was really into it.” 

“But no bedwetting at a young age?”

“No,” Ryan said. “No bedwetting at a young age. Apart from the stuff that happens to all young kids.” 

“Right,” said Shane. 

“What made you wet the bed when you were… what, sixteen, in the first place?” Ryan drank more water, then paused. “Hold that thought,” he said, and then he was off to the bar. He came back with two glasses of water, and he set them both on the table. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Shane. “I broke my arm when I was sixteen, I had to take some really heavy duty painkillers that had me sleeping so deeply I didn’t actually notice when I had to pee. There were muscle relaxers involved as well. It wasn’t a fun scene.”

“I dunno,” Ryan said, his tone speculative. “You sound like you were _really_ high.” 

“Highest I’ve ever been in my life,” Shane agreed, “and that includes the time I ate two pot brownies.”

“Jesus christ, _two_ pot brownies?” Ryan looked impressed. He was drinking more water.

“Two pot brownies,” Shane agreed. “Don’t do that.”

“I once smoked so much weed that I thought I’d broken through the roof of the world,” said Ryan, in a confiding tone. “And then I, uh….” He cleared his throat, his elbows on the table top. He looked like he was trying to become one with the dark wood. “I… I pissed my pants, sitting in my yard, and I stared up at the sky and was aware that all the water in the world is related to itself, and technically I had dinosaur blood drying on my thighs.” 

“Wow,” said Shane. “That is… impressively high.” 

“I don’t do things by half measures,” said Ryan, looking some weird mix of sheepish and proud. He drank some more water, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

“You really don’t,” said Shane. “So you want to pee on people?”

Ryan coughed, spilling water down his front and into his lap. Shane shoved napkins at him and Ryan dabbed uselessly at his face. “Um,” he said. “Not necessarily. I like… peeing my… self sometimes.” He was avoiding eye contact now. “Or on other people, yeah, if they ask. Or seeing other people pee themselves.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as you’ve, y’know, got tarps down,” Shane said, his tone contemplative. “Or maybe do it outdoors. Or in the bathtub. Someplace else tiled?”

“I can’t believe you’ve put this much thought into it,” said Ryan. “Is it, like… a thing that you’re into?” His expression was very… hopeful. 

“I’m not… not into it,” Shane said. He switched Ryan’s glasses, so that the full glass was closer to Ryan. 

Ryan looked at the glass, looked at Shane. “What does that mean, exactly?” 

Shane looked from the glass to Ryan’s face, then back at the glass. “I don’t know,” he said. “What do you want it to mean?”

“Uh,” said Ryan, and he took a big gulp of water. 

“Exactly,” Shane said cheerfully. 

* * *

Two hours (and five glasses of water) later, Shane and Ryan walked home. They were just close enough that their arms would bump together occasionally. Ryan was walking awkwardly, his hands stuffed in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot as they waited for the light to change.

“You okay there, Ry?” Shane kept his tone innocent. He’d never considered the appeal of piss before - he wasn’t particularly bothered by it either, he was just… indifferent. But the way Ryan’s face was flushed, the way he panted, how dark his eyes were under the streetlights they ambled by… Shane wasn’t so indifferent to that.

“Can I, uh… can I maybe use your bathroom, when we get back to your place?” More of Ryan’s too-casual-to-be-casual tone. 

“D’you mean my bathtub?” Shane kept his tone equally casual.

Ryan paused, although it was clearly causing him something like pain. “Are you implying something, Madej?” He moved into Shane’s personal space, jabbing Shane in the chest.

“I dunno,” Shane said blandly. “Am I?” They were walking by the mouth of a particularly dark alley now, and Ryan moaned, glancing into the shadows. 

“I could pee in there,” he said, and his voice was shy. 

“With that boner? I don’t think that’d work,” Shane said, as they walked by the alley. They were approaching the side of Shane’s building now, cloaked in shadows. 

“I… fuck, Shane,” Ryan said, and his voice was so broken that it made something in Shane’s head snap like a twig. 

Shane bent down, and he pressed his mouth against Ryan’s. He grabbed the front of Ryan’s shirt, pulling the two of them closer together and walking towards the backyard, around a particularly large hedge, into the shadowy spot by the darkened back porch. He shoved Ryan against the wall, and Ryan gasped, clutching at Shane’s shirt, his face turned up, staring into Shane’s. The lights were casting weird shadows on Ryan’s face, making the hollows of his cheekbones look deeper.

Ryan's lips were dry - he needed to use more chapstick. His tongue was very wet when it pressed against the seam of Shane's lips, and his hands were clutching at the front of Shane's shirt. He was shaking, and when they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against Shane's shoulder, panting. "I've wanted to do that for _such_ a long time," Ryan said, and his voice cracked. "So, so long."

"I'm sorry," Shane mumbled, because that seemed like the thing to say. He ran his hands up Ryan's sides, to cup Ryan's cheeks. Their foreheads were together, and Shane's neck was already starting to ache. 

"Don't be," Ryan groaned, and his hands were on the back of Shane's neck now, pulling Shane down closer, and yeah, no, Shane was going to be feeling that in the morning. "I want you so badly," Ryan said, and then there was another kiss being pressed to Shane's mouth, desperate this time. Ryan's tongue swiped across Shane's, and he sucked at Shane's tongue, nibbled on Shane's lips, yanked at Shane's hair. 

It was like being at the center of a frenzied thunderstorm, and Shane realized with some surprise that Ryan wasn't the only one shaking. 

"I need to pee so badly," Ryan admitted, and his voice was rough, ragged around the edges. He was clutching at Shane's hair. " _So_ badly."

"What's it feel like?" Shane didn't really know how this sort of thing usually... went. He knew how to do the whole dirty talk thing for regular sex - _you like my thick cock splitting you open, you're so wet for me, you're so tight, et cetera, et cetera_ \- but he could at least... guess and go for it, right? He'd never really understood the appeal of this kind of thing before now, but now - the desperation on Ryan's face, the way Ryan's heart beat against Shane's chest, the way Ryan seemed unable to stay still. 

"It... hurts," Ryan said. "My whole... like, the whole lower part of my body is throbbing. It's like a toothache, only not. Because it's also turning me on, because I'm some kind of weird freak." He didn't even sound embarrassed about it, or resigned - it was just a thing that was happening. 

"Why don't you just... go?" Shane licked his lips. He was suggesting that Ryan piss his pants, and it was making his stomach twist in new and interesting ways. How about that. 

"I can't just go," Ryan said. "I mean... it's... y'know, it's difficult."

"I thought it was your kink," said Shane.

"Just because it's my kink doesn't mean it's easy," said Ryan, and he sounded embarrassed. "Potty training does a lot of heavy lifting." His hands had moved to Shane's hips, digging in. 

"What?" Shane tried to decipher that. His erection was pressing against his zipper, and his cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, a double pulse in between his legs and in his ears. 

"It can be... it can be hard to pee when you're not, like, in the bathroom," Ryan mumbled. He sounded embarrassed ."And _really_ hard to pee when you're hard."

"There's solutions to that," Shane said, and his hand was going down between Ryan's legs now, finding the head of Ryan's cock and rubbing it clumsily through the denim. 

"Oh," Ryan said, and he moaned, his hips rocking forward. "I didn't, uh... didn't foresee this outcome. Are you sure you're, uh... you're into this?" 

"Ryan," Shane said in a long suffering tone, "I am making out with you in the dark on the side of my house. I think it's fair to say that I'm into this."

"What about the... the whole piss thing?" Ryan's tone was nervous, probing. As soon as Shane's mind latched on to _that_ verb, it went to some very... interesting places. 

Shane's cock throbbed against his thigh, and he shivered, his breath coming out in one long _whoosh_. "I can honestly say I didn't really see that... when I entertained the possibility of us getting together," he said, and hold on a minute, maybe that was the wrong choice of words. But also, fuck it. If Ryan was willing to be honest about all of his weird... kink thing, Shane could be honest about his feelings. "I have thought about it. About getting together with you, romantically. Or sexually, sexually works too. But, uh...." He kept his hand on Ryan's crotch, but he trailed off. This was all taking on a very _awkward_ cast. 

Ryan snorted, and he kissed Shane on the mouth, wet and hot and hungry. The slide of their tongues together made Shane's toes curl. He pulled back, and he was trembling even harder. "I'm really enjoying actually having an honest conversation about feelings and whatnot, but also I'm like... gonna die if I don't do something," he panted. His breath was humid against Shane's face, and his cock was pulsing.

"Do you want me to make you come?" Shane began to stroke Ryan again, still clumsy. "I can... I _want_ to do that."

"If you're offering," Ryan said, and he gave a weak chuckle. 

"No, Ryan," Shane said, deadpan, and then his hands were moving to Ryan's belt, carefully unbuckling it, then pulling down the zipper, "I'm just standing here feeling you up for the look of the thing."

"What look of the thing? Who's looking?" Ryan's voice was breathless. 

“Shut up, Ryan,” Shane said, and his hand went down the front of Ryan’s pants. Ryan was wearing boxer-briefs, and his cock was hot, throbbing in Shane’s hand. 

“That’s my line,” Ryan said, and then he moaned. “Fuck, Shane, I need to….” He rocked his hips forward, grinding into Shane’s palm. 

“You tell yourself to shut up? That doesn’t sound very healthy, Ryan.” Shane kept his hand around Ryan’s shaft, beginning to pump it. It was hot, even through the thin cotton of Ryan’s boxers. 

“Oh my _god_ , Shane,” Ryan groaned. “I’m gonna die, and it’ll be your fault.” He was giving short little thrusts into Shane’s hand, still leaning heavily on the side of the house. 

“Why will it be _my_ fault, pray tell?” Shane’s fingers found the ridge at the head of Ryan’s cock, and he pressed down under it, just to feel Ryan go completely limp. 

Ryan sobbed. “I’ve… I don’t know what I want,” he said, his voice as broken as a dropped plate. “I want to… I need to….”

Shane kissed Ryan, because it seemed like the kind of thing he needed to do, and he had wanted to do it for so long. He’d deprived himself for so long - why do it now? So he slipped his tongue into Ryan’s mouth and he sped up his wrist, jerking Ryan off through Ryan’s boxers. It all felt faintly adolescent - the kind of thing he would have done as a teenager, to keep whatever sex he was having from “counting,” since it didn’t meet some arbitrary standard.

And then Ryan stiffened against him, and Ryan’s teeth were digging into his lip. Ryan’s cock was pulsing in Shane’s hand, and there was sticky wetness soaking through Ryan’s boxers, against Shane’s palm. Ryan was shaking - if Shane hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that Ryan was _laughing_

“I swear,” Ryan mumbled, “I usually last longer than that. I swear.” He was laughing, but it was a very strained laugh, and he’d give an awkward little hiccup occasionally, as if he was worried he’d lose control. 

“I believe you,” Shane promised, although he was still holding on to Ryan’s cock. It was beginning to get soft in his hand, although it was still hot. 

“I have to go,” Ryan mumbled. and he was grabbing himself between the legs now, pressing the crotch of his jeans up against his cock, the seam right up against the back of Shane’s hand. “Shane, I have to….”

_He’s going to pee in my hand,_ thought Shane. _How do I feel about that?_ He’d have to pull his hand free soon, if he didn’t want to get peed on. He squeezed Ryan’s cock instead, keeping his hand in place.

Ryan whimpered - he actually _whimpered_ \- and Shane’s own, neglected erection throbbed at him pointedly. “Shane,” Ryan said. “Shane, I’m….”

“You’re?” Shane kept his tone reasonable, and he squeezed again. 

Ryan sobbed, and then he seemed to go limp, leaning back against the wall heavily, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open.

There was a rush of heat and wetness against Shane’s hand, and he held on, watching Ryan’s face, rapt. It was going relaxed, and Ryan was shaking as he pissed, saturating his boxers, soaking into the denim of his jeans and from between his own fingers.

“How’s that feel?” Shane’s voice was very quiet. “Was it… did you like it?” _Wow,_ he thought. _That was an awkward thing to say._ He pulled his hand out of Ryan’s pants, and he held it out for a moment, unsure of what to do with it. Then he gave a mental shrug, and wiped it on the leg of his own pants. He’d needed to wash them anyway. 

Ryan kissed Shane, long and hard and deep. He pulled back, panting, and he gave a nervous laugh. “How about I, uh… I help you with that?” His wet hand went between Shane’s legs, to squeeze Shane’s cock. 

“How about we go in and take a shower? Not that I’m not utterly enchanted with you and your kink,” he added quickly, when he caught Ryan’s anxious look. “Just… let’s do this inside, where there’s less of a chance of some jogger taking a picture of you blowing me.”

“Oh,” said Ryan, and he laughed nervously. “Would you believe me if I said I hadn’t actually thought of that?”

“I would totally believe that,” said Shane. “So… shall we? He held out his hand. 

“Just to clear the air,” Ryan added, as the two of them made their way around to the front of the house, “I don’t… actually wet the bed. I don’t have any of the… things from the Macdonald triad.”

“Good to know,” Shane said amicably. “I was worried I’d have to get some rubber sheets.”

Ryan snickered, and Shane’s stomach clenched pleasantly, to go with the throb of his erection. 

“Even if you did wet the bed,” Shane added, his tone thoughtful, “as long as you gave me a heads up first, I’d be okay with it.” The look on Ryan’s face, as he’d let go and pissed himself, was still lingering in Shane’s mind. That… was going to stay there for a while. A good long while. 

“I guess, if you had to choose between zoosadism, pyromania, or bedwetting, bedwetting kinda is the way to go, Morally,” Ryan’s tone had gone downright contemplative, as Shane unlocked the door.

“That makes sense,” Shane agreed, and he took Ryan’s damp hand in his, and squeezed it. They’d need to shower in a minute, before they started to really smell, but… well, there was something nice about this, right here and now.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my twitter, TheseusInTheMaz (no "e").


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